My first time watching Ari Aster's daylight nightmare — and why I enjoyed every disturbing minute, even when I knew what was coming.
SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't watched Midsommar, turn around now. We're discussing EVERYTHING. Let me start by saying that I actually enjoyed this movie, but I want a movie to outsmart me.
The flowers were beautiful. The people were crazy as hell. And I saw entirely too much coming. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed the movie. I'd watch it again, and I'd absolutely recommend it. But for a film that gets so much attention for being psychologically disturbing, I was surprised by how often my predictions turned out to be correct.
Maybe that's intentional. Maybe Aster wanted us to recognize the danger long before the characters did. I can appreciate that kind of storytelling, but personally? I want a few more surprises. Nevertheless, Midsommar gave me plenty to think about, particularly when it comes to grief, emotional dependency, religious traditions, and how easily manipulation can masquerade as love.
And THAT is where things get interesting.
The film introduces us to Dani, a young woman whose life is shattered by an unimaginable family tragedy. Her relationship with Christian is already strained, and it's painfully obvious that the man is emotionally checked out. Dani seems constantly worried about being a burden. She's careful with her feelings, apologetic about her needs, and desperate not to push away someone who clearly isn't giving her the emotional support she needs.
Christian, meanwhile, appears to be staying out of obligation. He's not particularly interested in being a supportive partner, but he also doesn't have the courage to end the relationship. It's a dynamic that made me uncomfortable before anybody ever boarded a plane to Sweden because there's something especially cruel about allowing someone to believe they're asking for too much when you simply don't want to give them what they need.
And then there's Pelle. Now, Pelle caught my attention EARLY. Something about how pleased he was that Dani would be joining their trip didn't sit quite right with me. Of course, by the end of the film, we understand that Pelle's invitation was far from an innocent opportunity to introduce his friends to his community.
But what I found interesting was that his apparent affection for Dani didn't necessarily have to be fake to be manipulative. He could genuinely like her and still be deliberately leading her into a dangerous situation. Those two things can coexist, and that's what makes his character so unsettling. Pelle represents something Christian doesn't offer Dani: attention, emotional validation, and the possibility of belonging. And when you've lost nearly everyone who made you feel at home, that can be an incredibly powerful thing.
The Hårga (the commune cult of the story) seem to understand this better than anyone. On the surface, their community is almost idyllic. The landscape is breathtaking, the clothing is beautiful, the meals are communal, and everyone appears deeply connected to one another. Yet, underneath all those flowers and smiling faces is a community operating according to a belief system that justifies some truly horrifying behavior.
I couldn't help thinking about how easily people romanticize the idea of living in perfect harmony with nature and one another. Harmony sounds wonderful until you realize that everyone is expected to participate in the same rituals, accept the same explanations, and surrender themselves to the collective.
The Hårga don't simply live together. They appear to experience life together in ways that leave very little room for individuality. Their synchronized screaming, breathing, crying, and expressions of pain were among the most fascinating aspects of the movie for me. At first, there's something almost comforting about the idea of people who will literally cry with you.
Dani has spent so much time suppressing her feelings around Christian. Then she finds herself surrounded by women who don't tell her to calm down or stop being emotional. They scream right along with her.
And while that might look like genuine empathy, I couldn't ignore the possibility that this collective expression of emotion was also another way of pulling her deeper into the community. There's a difference between being supported and being absorbed. That's what I kept coming back to throughout the movie.
The Hårga offer Dani the very things she's been missing — connection, acceptance, reassurance, and a sense of family, but those gifts come from people who are actively manipulating the circumstances around her.
And somehow, the film manages to make all of this look absolutely gorgeous. One of my favorite things about Midsommar was its use of daylight. We're so accustomed to "horror" hiding in shadows that there's something refreshing about watching the most disturbing events unfold beneath a bright summer sky.
The brightness makes everything feel even more surreal. The flowers, the artwork, the ceremonial clothing, and the sprawling green fields create this beautiful visual contrast with the violence. It's like watching a nightmare unfold inside a travel brochure. And the film's visual symbolism is practically everywhere.
The imagery surrounding fertility, death, renewal, and sacrifice was thoughtfully woven into the community's environment. The Hårga's beliefs weren't confined to speeches or ceremonies; they appeared in the artwork, the food, the clothing, and the way people interacted.
Unfortunately, all that foreshadowing also made the movie fairly easy for me to read. The moment the elders were escorted toward that cliff, I suspected what was about to happen. When Simon and Connie disappeared under increasingly questionable circumstances, I didn't believe for a second that they'd simply gone home. And as the community's treatment of Christian became more calculated, I had a strong feeling he wasn't going to survive.
Now, I understand that this is part of the film's approach to horror. The audience is often meant to recognize danger before the characters do, and the suspense comes from watching them walk toward an outcome we can already anticipate. I still wanted the movie to catch me off guard.
I want my theories challenged. I want a filmmaker to convince me I've figured something out and then pull the rug from underneath me. I don't want to spend two hours being right. WHERE IS THE CONFUSION?!
That doesn't mean the film wasn't disturbing. It absolutely was. In fact, one of the things I found most disturbing had less to do with the graphic violence and more to do with the Hårga's hypocrisy.
Let's talk about Christian. The Hårga deliberately arrange for him to participate in a reproductive ritual with Maja. He's given psychoactive substances and placed in an environment where his ability to meaningfully consent is seriously compromised.
THE COUNCIL OF NAKED BITCHES?!
I know the scene is meant to be unsettling, and it certainly is, but some of the imagery was so outrageous that I couldn't help laughing in disbelief. I guess this is why they also categorize this movie as a comedy. Still, the situation itself was deeply exploitative. The community creates the circumstances, controls the narrative, and then presents the consequences as sacred.
Their violence becomes tradition. Their coercion becomes duty. Their manipulation becomes an expression of love and belonging. Then suddenly, everything they do is justified because their belief system says so.
The Hårga's rituals are particularly disturbing because they raise questions about consent in a community where people are raised to accept these practices as normal. When a belief system dictates the terms of your life from birth, how freely are you choosing to participate?
And when outsiders are deliberately deceived and manipulated into becoming part of those rituals, the question of consent becomes even more troubling. The Hårga's treatment of Dani is a different expression of that same control. As the movie progresses, she begins receiving more attention, more affection, and more validation from the community.
Then she's crowned May Queen.
Now, the film doesn't explicitly establish that the dancing competition was rigged, but I certainly wondered whether her elevation had been part of a larger plan. How convenient is it that this grieving, emotionally vulnerable outsider suddenly becomes the center of everyone's celebration?
She's embraced, admired, dressed in flowers, and given a place of honor. For perhaps the first time in a long while, Dani feels wanted. I kept asking myself whether the Hårga were celebrating Dani as an individual or celebrating how successfully she'd been incorporated into their world.
And that's why the ending is so fascinating.
Christian is paralyzed, placed inside a bear carcass, and burned alive as part of the final sacrifice. The temple goes up in flames. The community begins screaming.
Dani watches and then… SHE SMILES.
LAWD.
That final smile is probably the most psychologically interesting moment in the entire film. What are we supposed to make of it?
Is Dani genuinely happy? Has she finally broken under the weight of everything she's experienced? Does she feel liberated from Christian? Or has she been so thoroughly absorbed into the Hårga that their version of reality has become her own?
I don't think those interpretations have to be mutually exclusive. Dani has spent the film searching for emotional safety and a sense of belonging. By the end, she appears to have found both.
But she's found them among people who helped create the very circumstances that caused her suffering.
She finally has people willing to cry with her, but they're also the people who helped give her reasons to cry. The film almost invites us to celebrate her escape from an unhappy relationship, while simultaneously showing us that she's entered something far more dangerous.
That's not the kind of liberation I'd wish on anybody. I think it's worth acknowledging that Dani's final choice is made after an extraordinary amount of trauma, manipulation, and exposure to psychoactive substances. Treating her decision as a simple act of empowerment overlooks how thoroughly the Hårga have compromised her autonomy.
For me, that final smile wasn't a straightforward happy ending. It was the terrifying possibility that Dani had finally found what she needed in the worst possible place. I just wish the film had offered a little more unpredictability along the way.
Ultimately, Midsommar is a beautifully constructed piece of folk horror. Its cinematography, production design, symbolism, and use of sound create an atmosphere that is both inviting and deeply uncomfortable.
A movie doesn't have to leave me completely bewildered for me to appreciate what it's doing.
Sometimes it's enough to enjoy the experience, admire the craftsmanship, question the characters' sanity, and leave with a few things worth discussing.
Just don't invite me to a remote Swedish commune for a summer festival, okayyy?!!
Behind the Flowers 🎬 — A Little Cinematic Appreciation
What I particularly appreciated about Ari Aster's direction was his ability to make horror feel inescapable without relying on darkness. The persistent daylight, symmetrical compositions, intricate folk artwork, floral imagery, and communal soundscape create a world that feels simultaneously welcoming and suffocating.
The film's recurring imagery of fertility, sacrifice, death, and renewal gives the Hårga's rituals an internal logic, even when their actions are morally indefensible.
And Florence Pugh's performance deserves recognition. So much of Dani's emotional state is conveyed through her breathing, expressions, and physical reactions, culminating in an ending that remains open to multiple interpretations.
For all my complaints about predictability, Midsommar is undeniably a film with a strong visual and thematic identity.
The Haus Verdict 🎬
Beautifully Disturbing, But I Saw You Coming.
Midsommar is visually stunning, symbolically rich, and psychologically unsettling. I enjoyed its exploration of grief, manipulation, and belonging, but I wanted more surprises from a film so invested in psychological horror.
Would I watch it again? Absolutely.
Would I recommend it? Without hesitation.
Did it leave me questioning what the hell I just watched? Yes.
Did it leave me guessing what would happen next? Not nearly enough.
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